


Pine Nuts

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Accidents, Allergies, Awesome Elizabeth Burke, Caring Peter Burke, Desperation, Embarrassment, Flashbacks, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Hurt Neal Caffrey, Indignant Neal Caffrey, Misunderstandings, Parental Elliot Stabler, Young Neal Caffrey, allergic reactions, season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29586207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Relationships: Neal Caffrey & Elliot Stabler, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Oatmeal

It was no secret that the delicate breakfast platter Neal gorged himself on every morning was _light_ in nature. But with coffee and bread, Caffrey honestly found himself sufficiently nourished each day. Mrs Burke disagreed. Once the weekend came around, which naturally equalled sleeping in, Elizabeth prepared her culinary intervention. 

The con man stepped out of the shower to the sound of shave-and-a-haircut on white wood. He opened the door. 

“Please tell me we’re not solving another case in the Sabbath,” he groaned, yawning.

“Sabbath is tomorrow. And you’re on low fuel, or you’d have known that,” Peter commented, placing a Tupperware container on the table.

“Pot roast? For breakfast?” Neal groused, bemused.

“Nope!” the agent smiled, revealing oatmeal. “El’s sick of your ‘self-imposed hunger strike’. You’re not going anywhere without a healthy dose of _unprocessed_ fiber,”

“Yum!” he vocalised, grabbing a spoon. It was no secret; he despised the multigrain rolls at the office, but was ecstatic all the same. Maybe it was politeness, maybe he was maturing...Burke did not know.

Neal was about to grab the sugar when he was assured plenty of honey had been added already. The first bite confirmed this. 

“There’s something different about this porridge...chia seed?” he guessed.

“No...” Peter was not confused, merely expectant. This was the fun part.

“Then, what?” Neal inquired, curious.

“It’s her secret ingredient,” his handler explained, playfully.

And presto, the gentleman’s refined tastes perked up. He’d had porridge at the hotel in Copenhagen, and Belgium after that. If anyone knew varieties of cooked grain, it was him.

“Barley?”

“Nope!”

“Rye?”

“Wrong again,” Peter grinned. His friend naively assumed it was a conglomerate of something you made entire portions of porridge of, mixed together. _Oh, how innocent young minds could be!_

“Feels like cashews, but more boring, almost umami. Pine nut,” Neal threw out impulsively.

“Ding ding ding!” that was the correct answer.

“What?” he swallowed abruptly in a momentary state of confusion.

“That’s the secret ingredient,” Burke confirmed.

“Fuck!” Neal yelped, shooting out of his chair and placing his mouth under the sink. He spat out the little he had yet to swallow of his last spoonful of the substance. Once he was done, he stared at his friend with wide eyes.

“Are you insane?! I thought you knew,” he remarked in panicked frustration.

“Knew what?” Peter stuttered, taken completely off guard by this outburst.

“I’m _allergic_ to pine nuts!” Neal clarified, scoffing with anxiety visible on his face. Justifiable, of course, considering the circumstances.

“Well, no. I didn’t know that,” he shrugged, surprised at this information. “Neal, I’m so sorry, I had no idea, and obviously neither did Elizabeth,” Burke apologised profusely.

“Alright. I get it,” Caffrey dismissed his guilt, understanding the unintentional nature of his actions. He ran a hand across his face, willing himself not to freak out entirely.

“How could I have known?” Peter questioned, befuddled.

“I don’t know...you’re looking into Sam, he knew Ellen, Ellen knew me as a kid, I figured maybe you dug up something about those _oh so enticing_ 15 years of my childhood spent in WitSec,” it was his turn to shrug in reply.

“No. I told you the Marshals are keeping everything under lock and key. And for the record, Neal, if I did get my hands on any intel pertaining to you personally, I would’ve asked you before reading it. I respect your privacy. Even when it comes to Sam. I can understand you wanting to deal with this on your own, although I do hope you will come to me at the first sign of danger,” Peter asserted firmly.

The sincerity would’ve led to both a hug and a thank you, but resulted only in a brief nod as Neal excused himself from the main area. His stomach rebelled, and he knew his intestines would take the same opposing stance.

When he finally sat down on the commode, he allowed himself a deep sigh, somewhat eagerly awaiting the impending eruption of his bowels. But, nothing happened. He swallowed nervously. If it weren’t there yet, it definitely would _before_ they reached the 21st floor, and he didn’t feel particularly confident about making it to the lobby either, for that matter.

“You okay in there?” he heard his handler pry from the hallway.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Neal puffed, pointing his member down to pee, while he could do so with added comfort.

He emerged, turning an inch to the right, past Agent Burke’s questioning expression.

“Don’t be fooled. I’m not coming into work today,” he warned, leaving his hat behind.

Peter was staring blankly at him.

“Relax. I’m not dying. This is just like Moz’ _intolerance_ ; relatively speaking,” Caffrey calmed his friend’s nerves.

He did not need to ask further. Conclusions could be drawn without necessarily having to confirm them...

“Give or take some inflammation, as is standard with an autoimmune response,” he remarked offhandedly, clearing the table and picking up his newspaper.

“Right. You wanna catch me up on why you can’t come into work today?” Peter prompted. If his assumptions were correct, Neal was far from _incapacitated_ by the “iffy” reaction.

“Digestion takes time. Time traditional traffic patterns won’t lend me,” Caffrey elaborated, with a distinct blush, to which Burke paid no mind.

“Don’t be so dramatic; we’ll head into town right now, and if you need to stop _suddenly_ , that’s fine- I’ll pull over right away,” Peter promised. “We need to drop off the leftovers at my house anyway... I’m sure that’ll be more comfortable for you,” he added encouragingly.

The eventual promise of seclusion in the Burke bathroom, got the nervous Neal across the threshold of his penthouse.

* * *

Neal kept a close eye on his abdominal distress, every gurgle making him tense, like _it_ was happening right that second.

He kept shifting around in his seat, something which caught the agent’s attention as he was certain he had, _inadvertently,_ of course; heard him take care of his bladder before they left.

“Need me to pull over?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the road. His CI had enough on his plate at the moment besides worrying about _that_ for the nth time since they started working together.

Neal blushed again, shaking his head briefly.

In the midst of all this, he tilted his bottom slightly up, before wholly unintentionally letting a big one rip.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” there was no room for further embarrassment, even if he did feel obligated to emphasise his regret with a hand covering his eyes.

“No worries. We all do it. 14 times a day,” Peter assured him.

“16 times. 14 is women,” Mr Smarty I-hope-I-don’t-poop-my-pants corrected.

Eventually, Neal got too self-conscious for anything his handler could say making a difference, so instead, he opened a window. The repetitive tooting made it very clear that his partner was unwell, from the smell alone. The agent shook his head, wondering when exactly he had begun noticing the distinct scent of Caffrey’s usual flatulence. Probably a while _after_ the meeting outside the bank, he mused.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Neal had begun rubbing his legs and holding his knees, a typical manoeuvre for anyone having recently eaten something that didn’t quite agree with them.

“You doing alright?” he checked, perceptively.

“It’s going down. Down and out, _very soon_ ,” the CI rattled off concisely.

“Well, we’re almost at the house, so just hold on as best you can,” Peter encouraged.

“It’s coming, Peter!” the otherwise calm and collected con man was absolutely freaked out of his mind.

“Try letting more gas out, I don’t mind,” his friend urged him. Caffrey moved to do so, letting out a big block of _something_ that was in the way. It felt really good, for a split second. He froze. That felt _way_ too liquidy for his own good. A hand patted the area. There was _something_ in his underpants. _Well, that’s just great._

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Neal hurriedly apologised, anticipating a reaction from the driver.

“I meant what I said, Neal, it’s okay,” the man was quick to reassure.

“No, it...wasn’t just a fart,” he admitted.

This time, Agent Burke noticed how red his face had become, once again.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, accidents happen. Just keep breathing,” Peter soothed.

* * *

They reached the correct porch in record time. The Suit threw Neal the house keys so he could run inside to the bathroom, ahead of him.

He threw the keys on a small table to the right, spotting El across the room.

“Morning, Elizabeth!” he waved at her, ascending to the room he needed.

“Morning, Neal! Neal?” Mrs Burke responded, surprised although obviously pleased to see him, and even more surprised to see him sprint up the stairs immediately upon entering.

Peter arrived shortly after.

“Hi, hon!”

“Hi...is Neal..” El hesitated, pointing upstairs.

At the same time, said gentleman was suitably close in proximity to the toilet. He had unbuckled his belt before opening the door. The second the question had left the woman’s mouth, his bottom made contact with the toilet seat. It took but a nudge to relieve the remaining pressure. The sounds spoke for themselves.

“Okay,” she finished lamely.

“No, he’s not,” Burke stated the obvious. “As it turns out..he’s _allergic_ to pine nuts,”

“The secret ingredient. Ah, that’s a shame,”

“Mhm...though you might not use that word when he emerges,” he advised, walking up a couple of steps as well. “Did you put fresh boxers in my drawer?”

His wife nodded, puzzled. “Neal needs to borrow a pair...he had a _minor_ accident earlier,” Peter elaborated. “And don’t you dare mention _that_ when he’s done,” he warned. She nodded again.

He approached the door. The sounds were gone, and he heard the toilet flush. The agent knocked. “I got you a change of you-know-what, just leave the other one in the hamper,”

Neal followed the instruction, opening the door. He took the underwear abruptly, about to close the door when he was interrupted.

“Did you write your initials in them?” Peter had to make sure they didn’t get mixed up.

“They’re not bonds, Peter,” Caffrey quipped.

“It’s to tell them apart from mine,” he clarified.

“Stitched, yes,” Neal informed him.

Once he was alone again, he used a wet rag to finish the cleaning process. The cold moisture was heavenly on the irritated patches. Better than a bidet, even.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Alright...that should tide me over for a while...hopefully,” Neal remarked, walking down the stairs, feeling much better. Elizabeth was right there next to him.

“Sorry, El, I really couldn’t hold it,” he admitted, embarrassed.

“Hey, it’s no problem, feel better?” she assured him.

“Much,”

They noticed him shifting to get used to the unfamiliar fabric on his skin.

“Are they too big for ya?” Burke remarked impulsively.

“Eh...no, not very,” Caffrey cleared his throat awkwardly. He averted both pairs of eyes.

“Don’t worry about that, it happens. I’m so sorry; I should’ve checked,” Mrs Burke apologised profusely, comforting the con man.

“It’s not your fault. It’s a relatively uncommon allergy, I figured it out myself _years ago_ now, and it’s never really come up since,” he shrugged. “The rest of the porridge was scrumptious, I promise,”

“Glad to hear it,” she took the Tupperware tin with a small smile.

They left soon after.


	2. Chili

“I guess that’s why you’ve been avoiding multigrain bread at the office,” Peter wagered.

“Yep. The ones with visible pine nuts in them and the ones without look almost identical. Like the pine nuts are hiding in the other kind,” Neal stated.

“How did you find out, originally?” the agent asked. Caffrey hesitated, deciding on how to explain it, through sufficiently flattering terms.

“Well, it wasn’t out of the blue after  _ repeated _ exposure or anything like that; Ellen hardly cooked with it in the first place, let alone when she made food for me, or the both of us. It just happened; first time it hit my system, my body decided it didn’t like it, and it’s reacted negatively to it ever since,” he summarised.

“That still doesn’t explain why the Marshals didn’t tell me. ‘Cause you made a good point; they’re obligated to share any information they uncover in their investigation that might be critical to keeping you safe, like allergies. For instance, if you’re undercover and accidentally lets slip that you’re allergic to peanuts, which I know you’re not- and then the bad guys go ahead and force-feed you a PB and J sandwich; we’d know to pull you out as soon as you reveal that particular piece of  _ sensitive _ information,” Peter explained.

“I’ve not seen  _ or  _ heard anything to suggest this led to you needing medical attention, but if it happened at home,  _ and  _ you were fine, there’d be no reason to document it..” he noted.

  
“You make an excellent point. I suppose, after getting picked up from school a half-hour early, it seemed reasonable to assume someone would write it down,  somewhere ,” Neal shrugged.

“Well, I mean, you weren’t hurt, and people go to the pharmacy all the time. WitSec has certain exceptions to allow for some modicum of  _ privacy _ ,” Burke pointed out.

“Yeah, I think that was the problem,” he scoffed at himself. “At least from what I understood,”

“Did the guy talk to you about it?” Peter grew increasingly intrigued.

“Among other things,” Neal looked away, awkwardly. He was getting  _ way  _ way too close to the potentially “incriminating” details.

“You know him, actually,” he mentioned. “Remember the guy who picked me up from the airport after Kate died?”

Peter did. “Elliot Stabler...wait a minute, he knew you. From before you went to prison,”

“Being in WitSec means round-the-clock surveillance, and Ellen worked late often. I couldn’t exactly walk myself home every day,” Neal pointed out.

“He wasn’t just any Marshal; he was  _ yours _ ,” Burke realised.

“I had several, but yeah, towards the end of my education, beginning of my senior year, right before I ran away; of the few watching my back from when I was 17, he made the most impact, without a doubt,” he admitted.

The car turned silent.

“This is the part where you tell me what happened,” the Suit nudged, unleashing his rampant curiosity.

  
“What? Oh no, this morning was enough humiliation for one day,” Neal objected instantaneously.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” Peter dismissed his concerns.

  
“Oh, believe me, it is,” Caffrey insisted.

“Okay, you’ve told me when, not how. And that still doesn’t make it any clearer why you’re citing Stabler as such a positive influence, yet when you laid eyes on him at the hangar, you looked as if you wanted to hide in a hole,” Burke reminded him.

Neal pinched the bridge of his nose.  _ So he’d spotted that, huh?... _

“Do you really want to hear a story about me shitting myself?” he challenged.

“I was cool when it happened before. I swear I won’t laugh,” Peter promised.

Neal narrowed his eyes, doubtful. 

“Alright; I’ll try not to,” the agent relented.

“Fine,”

* * *

“The night before, Ellen had made me this absolutely delicious chilli. Your wife is lucky she's not around to cook anymore, ‘cause I honestly think it’d be a tough competition. I had a lot of helpings of it. In the morning it felt kind of off, like it didn’t really agree with me, but it wasn’t all that surprising to me; it’s to be expected with Mexican food, after all,”

_ Once I got to school, I used the bathroom between classes as I normally did, except this time I tried for a #2. I tended to let my body wait until it was a little less crowded, fewer people to hear me, you know? But I also knew not to gamble with whatever was going on. Dignity be damned...but just like this morning, nothing came out..yet. _

_ It was in fourth period, right after lunch, that it took a turn for the worse. I raised my hand early on in the class, at a time I never would dare to ask for the hall pass- no matter who was teaching that day. Mr Markwood made me wait until the end of class.  _

“Sir, it’s an emergency,” Brooks gave the man a heads up in case things got messy.

“Then I trust it will remain at DEFCON 5 until I’m done explaining the Cold War, Daniel,” the teacher turned his back to the student.

_ It absolutely did not. Without a second thought, I sprang up from my desk and shot out of the room. _

“Danny Brooks, do you have a hall pass?” yelped the hall monitor, dodging the human projectile.

“Nope!” Neal acknowledged, in a hurry to reach the restroom before disaster could strike.

_ I made it. Rest assured, it was not anything like what’s happened in my briefs OR the toilet today. _

_ When I came back to class, the teacher was not pleased with me. _

“Mr Brooks. I was under the impression that you understood the rules of this institution and the value of obeying them,” Markwood said sternly.

“And I was under the impression that using the facilities was a right, not a privilege,” Danny argued.

“That’s correct. It is your right to use the bathroom whenever you need to, which is why I would think you were smart enough to do so  _ before _ my class,” he pointed out. “Detention, Danny, this afternoon, end of discussion,” 

“But,” 

“The only butt I want to see is  _ yours _ , back in your seat, right now!” Mr Markwood barked in the open door.

  
  


* * * * * *

_ It was the first detention I’d ever received in my entire academic career. Though I’m not sure you can count partial ones, considering I never served it in its entirety. Anyway... _

_ I asked to go to the restroom almost immediately after it had begun. This time, I was asked to wait 30 minutes; the halfway point. This also was not possible. My stomach, or well, rather my gut, panged with pain. I felt like that lady who gives birth to an alien via spontaneous C-section. Except this one would not put on a top hat and dance.  _

“Peter.” The driver had begun giggling. He had thought the connoisseur was referencing the movie Alien, not Spaceballs. The con man was mixing up the genders, but who cared.

“Sorry, continue,”

_ I clutched myself and leaned forward as it erupted out of me. It was loud, it was huge, it was stinky, _

“I can believe that,” Peter agreed. “I just mean, I could tell you weren’t feeling too good from the smell alone. The gas, that is,”

Neal rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he defended himself, feeling embarrassed again. Burke squeezed his hand, saying no more.

_ The monitor lady got me out of there before I could be traumatised further, although I had already heard plenty from my classmates’ roars of laughter. I scrubbed out my clothes, and waited for them to call one of the Marshals to pick me up, that Marshal turning out to be Stabler as prior school days would suggest. _

Neal stepped into the van silently, not saying a word.

“So, what’s this I hear about you getting detention?” Stabler started the conversation, and the car, driving off the premises.

  
The teen huffed in anarchy.

  
“I won’t know what to tell your dear friend Ms Parker unless you tell me,” he pressed further.

“What does it matter?” Danny muttered, folding his arms.

“It matters because I know you better than you may think, buddy. And I know you gotta have had a damn good reason to piss off one of your teachers like that,”

“Well, it’s not my fault he suddenly decided to stop giving a flaming fuck about the general well-being of his students!” he hissed, frustrated.

“Okay, I will  _ not _ hear lip  _ or _ language like that from you, young man. No siree, not in this car; you understand?!” the Marshal scolded his ward.

“Sorry, Mr Stabler,” Danny adjusted his attitude.

“Don’t worry, you can still call me Elliot,” the man softened his tone.

“I just don’t want to talk about it,” he shrugged.

“Because it’s embarrassing,” Stabler guessed.

“How can you tell?” Neal was momentarily curious.

“Look, kid, you’re the most confident 17-year old I’ve ever met. It’s pretty much the only reason you wouldn’t be chatting my ear off right about now,” 

“Are we almost home? My butt is itching something fierce,” he admitted.

“You doing okay back there?” Elliot checked, growing concerned.

“Yeah...it doesn’t hurt  _ that _ bad,”

“Danny...just tell me what happened,” Stabler insisted.

“I had an accident,” he confessed.

“Nr 2?” the man turned and sniffed.

Brooks nodded, ashamed.

“Hey, it’s no big deal; these things happen, to big kids too,”

“You’re just saying that,” the boy dismissed this.

“I’m saying it ‘cause it’s true, seriously,” Elliot affirmed. “Why don't you walk me through it?”

“Ellen made chilli last night. I ate a lot of it. My stomach was upset most of the school day, and then I really needed to go  _ early on  _ in Mr Markwood’s class. He wouldn’t let me go, so I just ran out of there. Then he got all annoyed at me for having a legitimate medical issue, so I didn't even bother reasoning with that...prig,” Danny recited the events of the day.

Stabler smirked at the obvious word replacement at the end. The kid had always been one sneaky bastard.

“Okay, I have a very important question to ask you; did you try to poop  _ before _ lunch today?”

He blushed, knowing what that was referencing.

“Yes, but nothing came out,” he stated honestly.

“And that’s the moment you should've gone to the nurse, Danny. I understand not wanting people to know about your bowels, but she could help you. Maybe they’d have called me to pick you up from school even earlier, and all this could be avoided,” Stabler explained.

“Sorry, Elliot. I guess I didn't think of that,” the boy apologised.

“I know you don't. It’s okay. But I do want you to at least consider changing your bathroom habits. No one's gonna judge you for pooping, dude. Everybody does it. And you can bet your ass, pun very much intended, that they're just as embarrassed as you when they do it. And they still do it,” Elliot assured him.

“Think about that for tomorrow,”

_ And I did. That's how I learned to flush twice after doing my business. It was a small gesture that wouldn't really catch on amongst my peers, but it gave me the confidence I needed to take a crap at school more often. And rest assured, my attention deficit was still there. Stabler wasn't just privy to one end of my excretory system. That was actually one of the reasons I started running. Didn't think he'd be able to pull over in time- not my fault I kept seeing malls everywhere; it was the 90s, for god's sake! _

“That's why he asked if you needed to pee before restraining you. He assumed you didn't know, and if you did, you wouldn't tell him yourself,” Burke presumed.

“Mhm,” Neal scratched the back of his hair awkwardly.

“You're not like that with me. I'm glad,” Peter complimented.

“So is my bladder,” Caffrey quipped.

They both laughed at this.


End file.
